23 May 2012 (AM) // Deletion
I log on, open my profile pictures. And I delete X. 10 seconds to cut those strings.
I want to leave him there. But I can’t anymore. I can’t breathe.
The Weeknd’s Echoes of Silence soundtracking my weekend.
It’s a little too fresh
Why am I such a hot mess? I’m gonna need some courage before I write about last night.
Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.
Are you aware the shape I’m in?
My hands they shake, my head it spins.
Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in.
I wish everyone witnessing my temporary psychosis would evaporate immediately.
Yes, that includes you.
Energy
Need to refocus my energy in making art rather than trying to find a muse.
Seriously.
Box
I packed you into a box today.
Wtfriday
I had the best weekend. Near drowning in a pool at 4:30am can actually be good for you psychologically.
I think I might still be slightly drunk, and it’s fucking monday.
Crawling in your skin at 2am
There’s a crawling in my skin at 2am nowadays. Ever since the split, yes the inevitable splitting of slice down in the middle mid range 20 somethings that seems to be smacking everyone on the back of their heads… my skin is constantly crawling. I think I’m looking for something and through 20 thousand manic hours of talking with countless girlfriends, I realize I’m hunting for some strange.
Strange and change. I always thought my break would be a little more mature, but turns out, 6 years or not, self-proclaimed kale-buying, business owning, black rice and juice boozing or not, I’m still as mature as my 19 year old self. Red hair, panty shorts, psycho neurotic me is back and back with a motherfucking vengeance.
As if to say, “HEY MANDA! GUESS WHAT? I’ve been here all along, creeping under your temporary thick domesticated layer!”. But that’s okay, I miss her. And I don’t mind her enveloping me for a little while. While I explode in the full motherfucking monster of myself.
And yeah, I’m sorry if this disappoints you. But I’m very disappointed.
